


To Kiss, to Hold, to Talk

by alien_muse



Category: French History RPF, French Revolution RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 08:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16405070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alien_muse/pseuds/alien_muse
Summary: Maximilien had been studying in Paris school for two semesters and now returned to Arras where there were his ignorant classmates and a new boy named Antoine Saint-Just.





	To Kiss, to Hold, to Talk

**Author's Note:**

> It has nothing to do with that long AU with Hamilton - it's just a modern school AU because there is not enough of them in this fandom.  
> Also, the homophobia experience is taken from Russian/Ukranian schools and I hope it's not on that level in France.

Antoine was standing in a doorway, leaning to it. The school was quiet, much quieter than his last one, in Paris.

Of course, it was, he thought to himself, almost angrily. There were ten times more students than in this … place. Saint-Just was proud - he didn’t use any words his father would count as inappropriate language and it was something almost _fun_ about it.

Being _polite_. Gentle. He liked that. It was new.

He closed the door and came through boxes and shelves to the balcony. Nobody followed him, that was good. It meant he could continue smoking his cigarettes a little bit longer. Wonderful. Antoine wanted his parents to know, see their faces, wanted them to stop him from slowly killing himself. He didn’t plan to fuck up his health completely for the sake of it, though.

The air was fresh and cold on his face. He shrugged and lighted the cigarette, looking down on the empty square between the school buildings.  
A sharp sound of the ending torture made him jump. He hated this sound.

Saint-Just remembered his old school, it’s dark grace, it’s mysterious soul. He liked being there, that’s why his father decided to send him _here_. He liked being there with Teresa, that was true. Antoine liked kissing her in the empty hallway, he liked climbing to the roof and watching her happy smile when he followed her there without a second thought. They liked making love on the roof.

Saint-Just would hate this pretentious phrase otherwise. “Making love”. It would be stupid in any other circumstances, but he and Teresa… They _were_ making love. The whole world knew it, spinning around them.  
And then the whole world actually knew, and it was no fun at all.

Antoine listened. There were snap steps, coming closer and louder every second. He turned to the door and smiled, not even trying to hide a cigarette. Smoking was a violation of the school’s rules, without any doubts, but this kid wouldn’t do anything.  
“Hey there”, Antoine said with as much overconfidence as he could. “Looking for someone?”

Saint-Just knew he wasn’t. Kid’s name was Maximesomething. And he was no kid, he was a young man, the same age as Antoine; not very maturely looking, though. And, to be completely honest, his name wasn’t “Maximesomething”, Saint-Just simply hadn’t put any effort to remember the name of the kid who was obviously the most favourite subject for bullying in this school.

By other kids, of course, not by teachers, teachers loved him, which actually only made things worse.

“Hello”, said Maximesomething.  
He looked pale and his breath didn’t seem stable. Was he running? Would they find him there, along with Saint-Just? Antoine thought about it for a moment. Unlikely. It was just an old library, now a storeroom. Guys like those wouldn’t step in this place, it’s like holy ground for vampires. Saint-Just smiled at this thought.

And then Maximesomething smiled too, mistaking Antoine’s smile as a sign of sympathy.  
It could be. Saint-Just didn’t hold anything against this kid if he wasn’t a threat to his privacy.  
“Want one?” Antoine asked, offering a cigarette.  
Maximesomething’s smile faded.  
Saint-Just was tired of thinking this long nickname.

“So, Max”, he breathed the smoke out gracefully, showing off. “What are you doing here, if not taking a little break?”  
Antoine could see how the kid was trying to make up something, he _had_ to, who knows what this newbie wants from him. He was looking at a cigarette with an obvious fear.

So they are cruel, those guys, thought Saint-Just, not just regular bullies. Not just some jokes, not just some uncomfortable situations here and there. It was _physical_. Serious. Antoine knew this look. He was once - not in Max’s shoes, of course, but in the shoes of someone who has to watch and take part, can’t go away and can’t stop it, otherwise he will be the next.

Saint-Just understood with a perfect clearance, he was charming. Now he was a newbie everyone wants to hang out with. A certain type of girls wanted him to come over, to pretend be a grown-up woman with him. Boys wanted to make friends with him. But, due to this being a small town school, none of them was expressing a fearless interest in him he would love to play with. Shame.  
Back to the point, was it in his power, to stop Max’s bullying from happening?.. He decided he didn’t care _that_ much.  
Saint-Just was distracted by the buzzing of his phone.

“I’m sorry”, he said to the kid almost mockingly, read the message and froze. He raised his eyes to Max, thinking. “You know, they just invited me to your slaughter.”

The kid was suddenly so frightened that Antoine felt a slight sympathy for him. Max’s eyes went wide, he was clinging to his enormous old bag.  
Saint-Just threw away a cigarette and Max’s gaze followed it with a disapproval. Antoine smirked and stepped forward. He could see how a thought about running crossed boy’s mind - and he was right, running was useless. His only hope was to ask, to beg Saint-Just.  
Antoine waited for it, looking for any signs on Max’s face that he was going to ask Saint-Just to let him go. Let him stay here until the bullies go home. Antoine would let him, of course. Saint-Just wouldn’t mind to do it for a small price, though. A little bit of help here and there, the boy didn’t look like he could pay for his freedom with money.

He looked clever, though. Skinny, pale, clothes that almost didn’t fit. Usual stuff, nothing special. Dark trousers and a blue-striped shirt.  
Saint-Just couldn’t help a slight smile of power on his lips, and then… Then he noticed that Max was looking at him with a _disgust_ in his eyes.  
Antoine straightened. That was unacceptable.

Or maybe it was interesting. Begging never came, it was a surprise, the boy looked clever but not like an overly brave type.  
Negotiating would be clever. But brave was okay, Saint-Just thought.  
“Let’s go”, Antoine said with a playful smile, turning around.  
“Where?”  
Of course, he had to ask this. He had no reason to trust.

“We gonna climb on the roof from the balcony and then jump on the outbuilding. And it has a staircase almost all the way down. ”  
“Almost?”, the boy wasn’t scared anymore, he believed him, it was good. But he didn’t seem reassured by Antoine’s rescue plan.  
“Yes, just a couple of metres. I can catch you if you are afraid.” Saint-Just raised an eyebrow.  
Max wasn’t very happy with this either, but he didn’t have much of a choice.  
“Maybe I should just stay until dark?”  
Well, that was just boring.  
“Do you want to?”  
He didn’t. That’s why they were taking a potentially dangerous way from the roof to the outbuilding, down the staircase.  
Antoine took his bag, then his hand and helped him climb on the roof. His hand was a little bit sticky, his hair was a mess and he never was particularly strong, so that was a shameful experience, but Saint-Just didn’t seem to notice all of the above.

Robespierre knew it was his fault. He shouldn’t have answered that question. He should have stayed silent. It wasn’t his Paris school where he could get points for this - and also a smile from his friend, Caleb, who was sitting next to him.  
Caleb smiled at almost everything Maximilien did.  
And other people… they were supportive. Nobody ever laughed at his clothing or seemed to be happy when he was making mistakes. They were taking him seriously, even teachers, they had been talking to him about modern politics, education, history, art, anything.

He was happy there. Why on Earth didn’t he hold to it with everything he had? He knew why. Robespierre was still a school kid - yes, clever, but no skills, and he couldn’t find the job with the salary big enough to pay for another year, plus room, food, etc. It was… unfair. He wanted to stay there so badly that he had been depressed since leaving Paris.

That’s why he didn’t really care much about things they were doing with him.  
Robespierre thought they would change - they had a whole year to change, but they didn’t. They actually became worse.  
Maybe he should go to homeschooling for a couple of weeks? Let them calm down. Let them get tired and then bored of lessons, homework, parent-teacher serious talks about missing lessons and not doing homework.

Well, he had to pretend to be sick for that. Robespierre didn’t like to lie, but it was better than being punched in the face. Or maybe they were cleverer than that and would try not to leave visible traces.

Why would they do that? He didn’t do _anything_ to them. It was only the third week, he simply couldn’t recall anything important happening.  
And what were they thinking? That he would just shut up about it? That he wouldn’t go to the school counsellor or to his parents, or even the police? Why? There was more to it.

And maybe… Why did he get an impression they were going to do that? Right, from that new boy, Antoine, who didn’t even try to remember his name properly. Maybe _he_ was lying about the whole thing. Just for fun.  
He seemed to enjoy himself, being in a position of power, waiting for Robespierre’s “please”s.

Maximilien sighed. He didn’t want to think badly about the only person who actually helped him. Nobody before even tried, and Antoine was a newbie which meant he risked everything if his role in this became known.  
Or maybe he was lying about the whole thing just to enjoy Robespierre’s humiliation. But then - why would he help him out of it? Helped him climb on the roof without hesitation and didn’t laugh at how clumsy Maximilien was. Even tried to catch him when jumping, finally, to the ground.  
Antoine was nice.  
Robespierre liked him.  
That’s why he didn’t talk to him the day he returned to school. And the next. And the whole week after that. He didn’t wish him any harm.  
Maximilien saw Antoine’s smile here and there, could hear his voice and his laugh. Antoine was obviously enjoying his role of everybody’s favourite person.

How could he do that? Teachers liked him. He was a good student, not very hard-working, but smart. Everything seemed to be so easy for him. Robespierre was jealous of this easiness.

What he wasn’t jealous at all was Antoine’s behaviour with girls: Antoine was flirtatious and arrogant, taking their attention for granted and almost never paying back, playing with them and enjoying the game. Robespierre considered it graceless - and it didn’t sound like Antoine at all.  
Everybody liked him, even those girls and boys who weren’t interested in him. They mostly were like Robespierre - people who go to school not for socializing.

And Maximilien liked Antoine _too_.  
Looking at him Robespierre understood he won’t ever be like him. He would never be leading those senseless conversations, laughing about something stupid with everybody, making compliments, being so affectionate. It would take so much effort that it would eat him alive and he still would be nothing like Antoine.  
To Antoine’s advantage, he was beautiful, sociable, naturally fitting and smart. Robespierre was only one of those things and he wasn’t even sure about that.  
Antoine was also troublesome. He couldn’t stand when he couldn’t stop something he didn’t like from happening or interfere in any other way. He wanted to talk to Maximilien even more since it was dangerous but he wanted to do it without losing his new popularity.  
So he met him after school near the building they split up the last time.  
Antoine was leaning against the wall, killing time with his phone, and raised his gaze on Robespierre when he came closer.  
“Maximilien,” Saint-Just said, looking a little bit self-satisfied for using the proper name which led him into a special mood. “What a wonderful evening.” He continued with a secular tone of voice. ”Don’t you agree it is an admirable time for a promenade?”  
He stepped forward from the wall and stood there, tall and beautiful, like an ancient statue.

Robespierre looked up. The sky was covered almost completely with clouds; it was windy and quite cold. But he wasn’t sure that an honest pessimistic answer won’t make his stranger-saviour go away. That was a wonderful time for a walk.

“Every time is a wonderful time for a promenade if you have such a decent company," Robespierre said, hoping he caught the mood right.  
“Indeed.” Saint-Just couldn’t hold the smile anymore. “So I am a decent company, hah. Who would have thought.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know my name?”

Maximilien was surprised Antoine thought he didn’t. Antoine was new and he made quite a wave in the school.  
“Sure,” Robespierre said. “You are Louis Antoine Leon Saint-Just.” He saw the name in a teacher’s book. He probably shouldn’t have said that, now Antoine would think he had been stalking him, which was creepy, and won’t ever talk to him again.

“What’s yours?” said Antoine. “If we are doing this.” He said it almost as they were doing something indecent and he liked it.  
“Maximilien François Marie Isidore.”  
Antoine laughed. Robespierre was nearly offended.

“Do you like any of those?” Saint-Just asked. “I like Maximilien and not really fond of any of mine.” Then he added after a short pause, ”Marie is also fine but I don’t think using a girly name would win you any points here. Marie...” he looked as he was tasting it.

Robespierre didn’t want to comment the last phrase. “I prefer ‘Maximilien’ if you don’t mind.” He thought about Saint-Just’s names for a minute. Louis reminded him of monarchy, and ‘Leon’ was too much like ‘Leo’ which reminded of the knights in shining armour, saving pathetic students, and he definitely didn’t want to go there. “Do you prefer ‘Antoine’?”

“Yes,” said Saint-Just, checking the time on his phone. “I have another name, ‘Florelle’, but thankfully it’s not official - it’s a home name. Nobody uses it, though.” Antoine looked at Robespierre with a mocking solemnity. “Now you know my darkest secret. Don’t you dare tell a soul.”  
“I won’t,” promised Maximilien. He definitely doubted the name was Antoine’s darkest secret but he had nobody to tell. He also liked “Florelle” - for obvious reasons, everybody likes flowers, and Robespierre liked them even more - the name suited Saint-Just in a way, but not entirely, leaving a space to romanticize the owner. Which Maximilien wasn’t going to do.

Antoine was slightly swinging from toe to toe, his hair waving in the wind. He didn’t seem to be bothered by a sudden silence.  
“Thanks for what you did for me,” said Robespierre, feeling obligated to say something.  
“H-mm. You are welcome, I suppose.” It sounded like the very answer deserved another ‘thank you’.  
“Were you waiting here for someone?” asked Maximilien.  
“Yes,” Antoine answered, and then added, displeased for having to specify. ”For you.”  
“Oh.” It sounded even more pathetic than Robespierre would have thought. He blushed. Only a little.  
Saint-Just’s lips curled in a lofty smile, his face open and somewhat unearthly.  
“Why had you done that? Saved me that time.”  
Antoine’s smile widened and the ethereal impression disappeared without a trace.  
“So I saved you?”

Maybe for Saint-Just it was nothing but for Robespierre it was extremely serious so he wasn’t getting the whole laughing thing at all.

“Yes. You did. You said they were going to… physically harm me.” He hesitated. “Was that true?”  
Antoine raised his chin, offended.  
“Do you think I would just make that up? Why would I...” he stopped, seeing it was going in the wrong direction, and pressed down his pride. “Sorry,” Saint-Just said finally. “No, I didn’t make that up. I gave my number to... Paul and he wrote me that they were going to ‘have fun’ with you after class. I knew what it meant - after all those things he said about you.”

Robespierre blushed, embarrassed. It was a miracle Antoine still wanted to talk to him and to _help_ him after listening to all the disgusting things they had been telling him. Maybe he understood because he was bullied himself?  
“Have you ever been… in a similar situation?” asked Maximilien very carefully, his voice quiet.  
All easiness that was there a moment ago seemed to disappear. Saint-Just looked… uncomfortable.  
“It’s okay,” Robespierre said, feeling stupid. “You know it’s not your...”  
Antoine went cold. He smiled and his smile wasn’t warm at all.

“I wasn’t ever bullied at school. I mean, just look at me.” Antoine said. “But… I witnessed it. I… was part of it.”  
Maximilien was looking at him and understanding slowly came. Of course. He knew what was going to happen because he did it himself. Must be in his previous school.

Robespierre felt his breath go astray and a sharp desire to be far away from here had him completely. Everyone, literally everyone, in this world were involved in this madness, even his parents who were sure it will pass or that it wasn’t a big deal and had been telling him stories from their own childhood. Everybody seemed okay with that. Nobody ever interfered - well, Saint-Just did but he probably just thought physical harm was too extreme or just wanted to play a role of a perfect person or who knows. Robespierre didn’t want to imagine Antoine’s cruel words turning a victim into dust and scars and how he must have been laughing, indifferent to what was happening.  
Maximilien turned away and tried to go.

He felt Saint-Just’s fingers on his wrist, holding him back. “Wait.” For the first time, Antoine’s voice didn’t sound like music. “You need to know something.”  
Robespierre closed his eyes so he couldn’t see Saint-Just’s face. It was too hard. But not looking turned up to be even harder.  
Antoine was pale; his eyes were seeking for the slightest sign of _anything_ on Maximilien’s face. “They have something on you.”  
Robespierre froze, confused.

“What do you mean they have something ‘on me’? My darkest secret is probably my names too.” Maximilien said.  
Antoine was still holding his hand. “It’s not your names. It’s… They have photos.”  
“Photos of _what_?” asked Robespierre. He didn’t know what Saint-Just was talking about. What was so scary about pictures? What was he doing on them? Of course, if he was a regular boy, he would think it was pictures of him having sex or doing some embarrassing shit while drunk. But Robespierre had never been drunk and never had sex.

“They have photos of you and another boy. Being… close. Intimate.” Antoine let go of his hand. “Nothing… sexual, no kisses even. But they guessed.”  
Maximilien was shocked. He felt his heart racing in surprise. He wasn’t expecting that, he wasn’t even… Oh, God. He wasn’t even _gay_, not in a conventional sense, anyway, and this… Of course, Caleb’s instagram. They were posting pictures, a lot of them when they were happy and they were happy every time they’d been in the same room, especially alone, so…  
So, that’s why they decided he would be ashamed enough to let him beat him.

They weren’t completely wrong - he wouldn’t want this pictures to be shown to his parents, but he wasn’t ashamed of himself. He was… And then he thought that his teachers would look at him the same way his classmates had been. And then his parents. And serious talks. And…  
It was too much.  
Saint-Just was awkwardly standing beside him.  
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” Robespierre asked, his voice shrugged.  
Antoine nodded. His blue eyes were full of compassion.  
Robespierre leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and just breathed quietly for a couple of minutes.  
Maximilien was thinking about all those times he told Caleb they should be careful. They forgot it completely in the process, too happy to  
acknowledge the danger, the existence of people who weren’t fine with queerness despite living in the 21st century.  
And now people reminded of themselves. He knew their pictures weren’t so intimate. They hadn’t ever kissed on camera, they hadn’t ever posted  
pictures of themselves in ambiguous poses, Caleb hadn’t ever added any double-meaning descriptions. They weren’t even hugging on photos, for  
god’s sake. But yes, they were touching, they were too close, they were too obviously intimate.

Why on Earth did he think that if classmates in Paris figured it out, his Arras classmates won’t?

Well, in Paris they had not only pictures, they had seen him and Caleb  
together, but…

It was irrelevant, Robespierre thought. They won’t believe him anyway.  
How they could be homophobic to that extent he didn’t get at all.

But Antoine didn’t seem to be affected by the fact that Robespierre was (presumably) gay - he was still there, standing near, his gaze lost in the sky, his wavy hair falling freely on his shoulders. There were times in the classroom where the image of Saint-Just made him lost in time and he caught himself on thinking about his facial features, his smile, his distinctive way to talk to people that they actually listened.

Robespierre was almost surprised to see a vulnerable expression on his face. Did Maximilien hurt him? Did he care enough? Or was it just a mirage? Saint-Just looked ethereal and calm, as he was a statue again and always had been.  
Except inside he wasn't. Antoine doubted he should have stayed after telling Robespierre. He wished he didn’t because now he was feeling useless and out of place but he just couldn't make himself leave.

Robespierre hadn’t talked to him since that day. Saint-Just had been waiting for him the next, he even came earlier because he knew Maximilien did so, but it was only two weeks after he saw Robespierre again. He wanted to greet him. He wanted to come to him. He wanted to sit with him in the dining, at ease, as it wasn't a big deal. He was checking out if Robespierre was looking at him (he was). But he couldn't overcome some kind of resistance, some kind of pride that was telling him he should wait until Maximilien made his move first. Until Robespierre himself expressed some sort of interest in him. Which didn’t happen.  
Antoine felt a longing for his presence, so he stayed, despite being conscious that the last thing Maximilien needed right now was a witness. A witness who had a power over him before - it had become an unfortunate tradition.  
Saint-Just sighed quietly. Everything bad, it seemed, happened with this boy. Well, good things too, sometimes: Antoine saw some pictures of that man Robespierre had been with - a pretty sexy one. Tall, cute and Maximilien looked happy with him.  
Robespierre's face was still hidden under his palms so Saint-Just could not see his expression.  
Antoine wanted to do something, not to stand there like a fool.  
He placed a hand on Robespierre's narrow shoulder.  
It was unexpected even for him how strange it felt. Robespierre looked up and his eyes were light blue as the sky above, sad but not broken and wide open in surprise.  
Saint-Just squeezed his shoulder a bit and bent closer, his face full of compassion.  
And then his expression changed as if the way he saw Robespierre switched to something completely different and his blue eyes were suddenly vulnerable too.  
"Can I kiss you?" Antoine asked in a quiet voice.  
Maximilien froze.  
A minute ago he wanted to be as far from Saint-Just as possible, then he was shocked by his message, unable to move, unable to escape the reality he lived in. Robespierre thought Antoine would go away, not like he wanted him to do so, his silent being-here was actually nice and helped Maximilien to gain control of his emotions.  
He felt Antoine's gentle touch on his shoulder and could see that Antoine wasn't going to do anything until Robespierre says so.  
Robespierre was trying to think. He liked Saint-Just. What's not to like? Saint-Just was beautiful and clever and Maximilien actually enjoyed talking to him. The only person in this town who wished to talk to him and wasn't getting paid for that, like teachers were.

But did he want to kiss him? Robespierre's gaze fell on Antoine's lips almost instinctively. They were perfect. He could see a borning smile on those hellenic lips, a usual Antoine's confident smile which amazed Maximilien every time he saw it.

So simple would be to let Saint-Just kiss him. To feel the pressure of his lips and warmth of his upper body, to feel support and presence in its physical form. To feel that he is not alone in this.  
But he was a mess right now and it was not a time to make an important decision.

"Not now," said Maximilien as softly as he could. He could hear that his breath had gone shallow and, of course, Antoine had noticed it too. Robespierre blushed, and Saint-Just's lips curled into a smile of adoration.  
He didn’t move away and didn’t seem disappointed by Maximilien's rejection. Robespierre thought that Antoine was probably never rejected before, even though it wasn't a complete rejection - he delayed the decision, not made it.  
Saint-Just had to understand what Maximilien was feeling.  
"Maybe later?" asked Antoine and there was a laugh in his voice as if he appreciated some funny aspect of a situation Robespierre had no idea about.  
Maximilien nodded.  
"Maybe later" sounded reassuring but... Saint-Just's laughing was disturbing. He wasn't laughing at him, was he? Maximilien couldn't find any evidence on Antoine's flawlessly detached face. He didn’t like that expression as much as he liked Saint-Just's static antique beauty, which fascinated him sometimes to the extent he forgot that Antoine wasn't a piece of art but a human being.  
A human being who was quite persistent in his desires.  
Robespierre wanted some space. He was thinking about their little scene several times throughout the day and the following night, and then in the morning, lying in his bed. He was analyzing pieces of Antoine's expressions trying to catch if something was wrong, but everything seemed to be perfect.

Antoine wanted to kiss him, there, right on the street. Maximilien smiled. He didn't quite understand why Saint-Just wanted it - maybe he just fancied the danger? maybe he liked to do things he didn't suppose to do? It sounded like a bad reason to kiss someone.

Maybe it was a trap? Maybe those guys wanted a proof? Saying 'yes' to a kiss is a pretty strong one.

Robespierre didn't like that he couldn't see the whole situation.

So, was there any sign Antoine wasn't honest with him? Yes. He was trying to make contact with him, nobody ever tried it before in Arras' school. But it seemed paranoid - to base his suspicions on that.

And... there was the thing... Saint-Just told him he took part in bullying himself, in his old schools. Why would he do that if he was just playing? It seemed overly complicated.

Robespierre knew if he doesn't let the world going on with what it had for him he would just go insane, over-analyzing.  
Saint-Just was flirting with him, wasn't he? Exchanging their names. Making jokes. Smiling at each other. Putting a hand on his shoulder... The last one made Maximilien imagine it over and over again, imagine other touches, imagine their kiss. While lying in his bed. Perfect. His parents would be so disappointed, he thought not without a slight smile. Especially mum, she wanted to be at their wedding with Eleonore since they were seven.  
Eleonore was a girl who lived nearby and they grew up together, she was pretty much his only childhood friend... who now had a crush on him.  
Eleonore was smart and beautiful, and, thankfully, she was into art photography with such passion that it made her forget about Maximilien's existence 99% of the time.

Usually, she was leaving him text messages on his phone and called every evening to tell how she was doing, sometimes she even asked about him. Robespierre was often talking to her while doing homework. His mother was making silly faces coming into the room to bring or ask him something - just to catch a phrase or two and enjoy her little fantasy.

Eleonore was a busy person - and Maximilien was glad she was because when Eleonore had free days she came to his house, behaving like his housewife and girlfriend at the same time.

Eleonore was spending time bonding with his mum who was resting from cleaning the house and cooking which she usually did on the weekends. "The girl is an amazing chef," said she once. "Too bad she is wasting her time taking pictures."

It was a good thing that Eleonore didn't hear that because Robespierre had a theory that his mum wouldn't ever see her perfect 'daughter-in-law' again.

Not to get it wrong, Robespierre liked Eleonore but as a friend - she actually was his best friend when she forgot that she was in love with him. Maximilien was quite sure that this idea was their mothers' influence.

Maybe he could ask her about Antoine?..

Well, he couldn't because he still didn't tell her. At this point, Maximilien felt ashamed. Eleonore will probably get angry at him he didn't tell her about Caleb and stop talking to him for weeks.

She would think he was gay - which wasn't correct - but she would give up the whole idea about loving him completely, maybe? Robespierre knew he should have told her.

Eleonore was okay with gay people, she had a tonne of friends all over the world who were queer or heteroflexible or open-minded.  
But he was waiting for the moment... He didn't want to tell her over the phone.  
Maybe he could do it on Sunday? There would be still time to process things on his own. And... to do some things without actually thinking like kissing Antoine. He thought about it again - about Saint-Just's pose, about how he leaned towards him and how he smiled after hearing "not now". What will happen today?  
Maximilien shrugged and stood up, his head went spinning from a sudden move. He couldn't let himself spend hours dreaming about boys. He stayed still for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to go, and started another day.  
Saint-Just, however, absolutely let himself dream about boys and did so with a great pleasure. His room was quiet - it wasn’t for long, he knew his sister was going to wake up and storm his rest; yes, he wasn't alone for long so he better use it.  
He used it for thinking and delighting his imagination with dreams about Paris, about his lost love and freedom - he knew it was almost impossible for them to stay together, they were nothing alike, but it only made the feelings bitter and stronger and more _now_ and more in the _past_ than ever. And, of course, he thought about Maximilien.  
Their little talk near the school didn't make much sense to Saint-Just.  
Robespierre said no - but "no" that was "not now". "No" that meant "maybe today it's 'yes'". Antoine felt agitated about it. He turned in his bed to the other side that was cold and remembered how he placed his hand on Maximilien's shoulder, firmly and like he knew he was doing.  
Did it meant "today"? He closed his eyes. Should he wait for him after school? Saint-Just hoped Robespierre wouldn't change his mind, wouldn't start hiding from him, wouldn't ignore him till the end of the year - a heartbreaking perspective.  
About heartbreaking, by the way... Antoine bent his brows and sat. That was going to be an interesting experience... Secret kisses, adrenaline, rush, a really decent company - he smiled. But he should be careful, for once in his life he was actually going to put in danger not only his life but someone's else. Saint-Just didn't think Maximilien’s life was in direct danger, no, no one is that stupid, but Antoine didn't know anything about his family or his abilities to leave Arras - not soon, not even ever.  
They should just take it easy, have fun and don’t get caught.  
Saint-Just smiled again and hugged his knees. If they were in Paris - oh, if they were in Paris, they would have the whole city to do whatever they want; Antoine knew all the places they could stay; he had friends who could give them the keys; he could take him to that little cafe with books where everything smells coffee - he bet Maximilien liked books and Saint-Just himself loved the smell of small coffee shops.  
He hated it when the energized ball that was his sister Victoire interrupted his daydreaming. She laughed at him and said that he missed how his older sister made a fool of herself and told him all about it in details he really didn't need to know but was quite impressed in the end.  
It was day again. More precise, it was the end of the school day, the moment Saint-Just was nervously waiting since yesterday. He found it difficult to concentrate on what the other people were saying. His heart was beating more distinctively than usual; he was very aware of the longing pressure in his neck, no, lower, almost between his clavicles, it was there every time he thought about their presumed meeting in the room they exchanged their first words.

He didn't remember them, it bothered him a bit.  
Maybe he would ask Robespierre when they would be lying in bed after their first time? That would be a wonderful theme.  
Saint-Just was so diffused in the image that he didn't notice questioning looks people had been sending each other throughout the morning. They were all wondering what their beautiful friend was so busy thinking about. Who, maybe?  
When he was finally free he was slightly trembling; wanted it so much, knew it was dangerous. Not so dangerous for him, though, as it was for Maximilien - he rejected the thought in an instant it crossed his mind.  
The stairs, then the door. He opened it, expecting to see Robespierre, but the room was empty. The dust was clearly seen in the air - he took a deep breath, suddenly aware it was now in his lungs.  
Books everywhere… He fixed a backpack on his shoulder and sat down on a small shelf. Antoine was slightly disappointed he didn’t found Maximilien there, but it probably happened because the lesson had just ended and he didn’t rush towards the room as Saint-Just did. It wasn’t because he changed his mind, was it? That would be boring.  
Antoine checked out his phone nervously. Five minutes. He started scrolling through the dashboard, barely paying attention. This aesthetic was cute; some people are just assholes.  
The door opened with a low sound and Saint-Just raised his head, putting his phone back as fast as he can.  
Robespierre was here.  
For a moment Antoine wished he didn’t come - his heart was pounding and that was going to be so much trouble. But the moment passed and he was standing up, a fake confident smile on his face, hands in pockets, straight posture, ready for anything.  
Robespierre wasn’t so good at pretending - otherwise, he wouldn’t be in this situation at all. In the situation with his classmates, of course, but, maybe, he wouldn’t be in this room with Antoine too... He pushed aside this little chaos and closed the door behind him, feeling like he shouldn’t be here, like he should have just forgotten about everything, should go home, do homework. Kissing in the storage room didn’t sound like him. Nobody would ever imagine him doing this, even not himself, so, maybe, he should just go?..  
Then he saw Antoine and his heart speeded up in fear and anticipation.  
Antoine was so... casual, standing there, smiling. Does he do things like this often? With girls? Maybe with boys too? Has he been doing in _this_ school, not just in his previous one? Robespierre hoped he didn't. He didn't want to be part of his own humiliation later and... God, he should not come here in the first place. He should say no, very politely and go away as soon as possible.  
His thoughts must have appeared on his face because Saint-Just looked at him with a genuine calming smile and leaned back on the shelf.  
"Hello," said Antoine. "How was your day?"  
The question was said with an unmistakable taste of irony and Robespierre wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer it.  
"Fine enough. Yours?" he finally replied, feeling foolish.  
A right corner of Antoine's lips rose a little bit up. It suited him, this smile, Robespierre thought, looking at him almost unwillingly.  
"Are you still interested?" Saint-Just asked suddenly, a second later being sure he just fucked up everything; he tried not to show it in his face.  
Have some self-respect, Antoine told to himself. He wanted to do that; he knew it was a bad idea but he still did, there was no need to be so obvious about his desires.  
Robespierre froze for a moment. He hoped to delay the actual discussion as far away in the future as he could and believed Antoine and him would have some pleasant conversion during which he will politely explain why they should not do this and that they still could be... friends? or at least they would be able to talk with each other because there weren't many people who would do that for free.  
Maximilien had to answer the question, he had to, but he was just standing there, gazing at unearthly beautiful Antoine, waiting for the floor to disappear under him so he could escape this disaster.  
That's gonna be a disaster. The consequences... But he wanted that, he wanted Saint-Just to stay, to talk to him, to have his company for a while. He wanted to find a person who would get him as Caleb did. If he could make Saint-Just spend time with him, to actually like him, living here would be so much better, so much more bearable.  
Robespierre was really considering kissing almost a stranger in the school storage room - that's how unbearable his life was.  
He wanted to say yes, selfishly. But should he do that?  
The silence was too long.  
Saint-Just was worried - but didn't show it except in his agitated blue eyes. Robespierre thought again what this was for him but he spent to much time overanalyzing it already.  
"Yes," said Maximilien. "I am."  
Very, he added to himself.  
Saint-Just looked pleasantly surprised by his agreement as if he didn't actually believe Robespierre would do that. Maximilien stepped forward - the only thing he could do right now, feeling his knees slightly trembling, his whole body on edge of fear and excitement. He couldn't step any further but, thankfully, Saint-Just was happy to do the rest.

Antoine came closer and kissed him, hoping it would be as amazing as he remembered it and that Robespierre would like it as most boys did. He could feel Maximilien, soft fabric under his fingers, warmth and vulnerability, so much vulnerability. And then he bent a little bit closer, slowly, looking for any sign of no in Robespierre's eyes all the way until their lips touched.

A wave of heat came through Antoine's body. A small rest on a softness of Maximilien's lips, a slight kiss, and Saint-Just was two inches away, still in his personal space, looking into him for answers.  
Maximilien’s heart was beating fast, definitely faster than he wanted it to, and he was sure Antoine could hear it, as well as his uneasy breathing. That was a gentle kiss, not at all what he expected. He thought Saint-Just would be passionate, that his kiss would be deep and filled with sexual pressure. Though, maybe there wasn't enough time for unresolved sexual tension to form. Maximilien almost smiled at this thought. Antoine's arms were still around him, their chests were still close, making him warm and anxious. He wanted it to last.

Saint-Just leaned to him again and this time Maximilien closed his eyes, feeling a rising pressure to his lips, an almost awkward touch of Antoine's nose. For a moment he was sure he felt a slight brushing of Antoine's eyelashes on his cheek. That was more as an actual kiss, by the taste of it, nothing like a previous cautious one.

Saint-Just had his lower lip between his while pressing his whole body to Maximilien's. Pressing his chest into his, was it unusual for him to be able to, not like with girls? Pressing his hips, arms around his waist, holding on. Kissing the corner of his lips, tenderly.  
Feeling his lips was like a miracle, being so close was sudden and almost not acceptable.  
Seconds passed before Maximilien could catch his breath and realize that the lips were long gone. He felt as not only his cheeks but the neck and shoulders and waist and the rest of his body were blushing, as on fire. This hot feeling was slowly passing away - slow enough for Maximilien to experience the overwhelming sensation of it.

"Want to go to my place?" Robespierre could not believe Antoine's voice was so shallow. Saint-Just seemed as calm as ever but the way he spoke had given up the actual state of his mind and body. He was restless and longing for more.

God, thought Maximilien, finally receiving the question. He was so not ready. He could not believe he was actually considering it - he wasn't, of course, he wasn't. Kissing was one thing. Going to a place of someone he barely knew was another - especially if he didn't know what was going to happen, especially if he could imagine what Antoine wanted of him and was scared as hell. It was a bad idea, all of it, he should have said no to the whole thing yesterday, it would be a total nightmare.

It was so nice to be in Saint-Just's arms this one last time.

"I have to go," he said, hoping that Antoine will let him go and won't insist.

"Not now then?"  
His smile was so bright and confident, Maximilien didn't want to make him sad.

"No. I don't feel comfortable with what you are offering," he said, not trying to free himself from an embrace. He wanted to place his hand on Antoine's forearm and tenderly squeeze it, expressing his affection, but he couldn't make himself move.

There were moments of silence, heavy, uneasy, filled with thoughts, hopes, expectations.

Saint-Just's expression was unreadable.  
"Okay," he said finally, his eyes at Robespierre's face. "You didn't like it?" He seemed overly worried about it.

"No," Maximilien smiled, "I very much liked it."  
The vision of Saint-Just smiling was pleasant, his hellenic hips curved so nicely, his eyes sparkled with joy. Robespierre wanted to laugh: so fond of himself, unbelievable.

"So what is it?" asked Antoine in a quiet, lower tone. Maximilien felt the pressure of his chest again.  
That was not an easy question to answer.  
"Am I not attractive?" Saint-Just added in a teasing tone. Robespierre envied the easiness he asked it because in his own case he couldn't be sure in a response.

"Of course you are." And you know it with a half admirable, half intolerable confidence, thought Robespierre, smiling. "It's..." Not this cliche with "it's me", please. "...just I don't know you that well, we barely exchanged a couple of sentences." And a kiss. Does it count as two kisses? "I'm not ready for having sex. With you." Oh god, he said it. Without even a pause before 'having sex', as he was afraid he would, giving up how much it was a complicated topic for him.

And then Antoine _laughed_ and a sharp feeling of shame came through his body. Maximilien's cheeks were burning red, he felt absolutely miserable, stupid, humiliated. He stepped away from Saint-Just who was laughing at _him_. He couldn't believe he trusted him.  
"Sorry," said Antoine, grinning without any mercy. "I'm just..." An echo of laughter came from his lips, again. "I'm sorry, I really should not have laughed."

Is he serious, Robespierre asked. Maybe he was, but why did he humiliate him this way, what was so funny in his words?  
"Why did you then?" Maximilien tried to sound and look undisturbed.

Saint-Just smiled. "I offered you to come to my place and the first thing you thought we are going to be doing was having sex."  
Robespierre looked aside Antoine, cursing himself. He bit the inner part of his lips, wishing to cover his face with his hand and also disappear and never do anything as stupid again.

"It's fine," said Antoine, trying to comfort him. "It shouldn't even be funny. It's just... You." His smile transformed in a strange way, becoming more... distant.  
"Me?"  
"Yes. The way you present yourself, you don't look like a person who would do such a thing."

Robespierre decided to leave this little remark without a comment, not sure if it was safe to ask how he looked then.

"What did you mean by inviting me to your place?" His cheeks were colder now and with every second he could feel more and more steady.  
"I don't know." It didn't seem like this confession bothered Antoine. "Anything. Including sex, to be fair, but not necessarily. You're attractive and... " He looked like he was dreaming for a moment, a slightly faraway gaze. "I'd better not think about it right now." He smiled at him and Robespierre blushed. He could guess what Antoine was thinking. "But mostly I was offering... a conversation. Maybe some tea. Maybe more kissing. And other stuff."  
"Cuddling?"  
"Yes, cuddling."  
Saint-Just nodded with a serious expression. "So how about going to my place for some tea, cuddling and conversation?"

Robespierre admired his features for a moment. That was... more than he hoped for.  
"Do you have coffee?"  
Saint-Just paused for a moment. "Not sure. Is it a deal-breaker?"  
Robespierre wasn't sure if he could make a joke. What if Antoine won't like it? He hesitated.  
"We can get some if I don't," suggested Saint-Just.  
That 'we' bought Maximilien completely.  
"Then yes," he said, feeling the warm excitement in his chest. He didn't feel this good in months - agitated, exalted, almost ecstatic.  
They stood there in silence, waiting for the tension to pass.  
"We should wait for half an hour and then we can go," said Robespierre. "Of course it is safer to wait for more than that but I don't think they are in the mood today."  
Antoine nodded.  
"I don't like it."

Robespierre leaned on the table next to him.  
"You don't like that we have to hide?" He asked carefully. That wasn't in his plans to come out, no way.  
"No. This part is actually pretty exciting. I mean that you have to waste hours because of their stupidity."  
"Oh." Robespierre sighed. "Yes, that's pretty unpleasant. I tried to talk to them..."  
"Let me guess, it was fruitless."  
"...and I wanted to go to principal after that, or maybe to the school council but now I can't unless I want everyone to know about those photos."  
"That's fucked up." Saint-Just moved closer.  
"Yes." Maximilien smiled. "Fucked up." The phrased felt alien on his tongue.

Their hips were touching now and Robespierre felt a strange satisfaction every time he thought about it.  
"He was definitely worth it, by the looks of it," said Antoine awkwardly.  
"Excuse me?"  
"On the photos, what's his name?"  
"Caleb." The name felt unfamiliar now, but the pain and disappointment were still there. "You approve then?" A weak smile appeared on his lips.  
"Oh yes," said Saint-Just with an artificial enthusiasm. "Are you on a break or..."  
"No, it's over."  
He sounded much more at ease with it now.  
"Good."

Maximilien laughed. It was so Antoine-like to say so.

Saint-Just smiled, glad he could cheer Robespierre up. "I wouldn't want him to get upset when I charm you."  
Maximilien shook his head in admiration and disbelief. "You're so certain." He paused. " How can you be so sure?"  
"I'm just confident in my abilities."  
Robespierre sighed. He could never be like that.

“You know, I was popular at my last school. Everybody loved me.” Saint-Just said suddenly. “That’s nice to be a pariah for once. New experience and all that.” He smiled. ”Have you ever been popular? Parties, girls, having fun.” Now Saint-Just was just laughing at him, Robespierre thought.  
“No,” he answered.  
“You should try it sometime.”  
Antoine’s boyish smile was too adorable for Maximilien to resist. His whole body was melting, and their hips pressing together didn't make it easier.

Maybe they should kiss some more.

A wave of excitement had his body when he slowly placed his palm on Saint-Just's face, captivating him into a tender touch of the lips.  
They weren't in a very comfortable position for a kiss so it didn't last long, but a surprised and absolutely fascinated look on Antoine's faced was worth it. Robespierre rarely felt so relaxed.

"We should go," whispered Antoine on his lips after some time. "I have a pretty nice apartment, where we could... have tea and some civilized conversation." His thoughts weren't all that innocent, his smile betrayed him.

"Aren't you parents going to be there?" said Maximilien. He didn't want to meet Saint-Just's parents and more than that, make known his... affections towards Antoine.  
"My mother is in Paris."  
"Your father too?"  
"He is dead. The foster one is with my mum."  
"Oh. I'm sorry." Robespierre blushed. He shouldn't have asked.  
"It's fine. I almost don't remember him." Saint-Just's eyes were serious, his face somewhat cold. "We should go." He slipped from the table, letting go of Maximilien's hand and picking up his bag.  
Maximilien did the same, starting to worry if he had just destroyed everything and Antoine wasn't going to return to his previous flirtatious heart-warming state. He felt the sadness gradually coming back.  
They used the same as before, this time Robespierre managed to climb on the roof without Saint-Just's support. Antoine jumped from the ladder, then silently helped Maximilien down.  
"I'm sorry again," Robespierre said quietly.

"No, I said, it's fine." It touched his eyes, so it should have been a genuine smile. "I'm not sad." He put his arms around Robespierre's shoulders. "I've just tried to remember if I have coffee or not. I don't drink it and even if I have one it's probably horrible. And I don't want you to drink some cheap instant coffee." Antoine placed a sweet kiss on his lips and Robespierre thanked a Supreme Being it was just some corner between school buildings, not somewhere they could be seen. They were very close."I wouldn't want you to think of me as a bad host."  
"N-no." Saint-Just eyes have filled with absolute joy when he heard Robespierre's light stuttering.  
"Then we shall go and buy some decent coffee," he stated.

Maximilien kept looking at him till he stepped back and went to the direction he only knew. Robespierre followed.  
They walked in silence for some time, one of them trying not to stay behind and, of course, that one was Maximilien. He was shorter than Antoine and probably less used to fast walking or really any kind of physical activity. Maybe he should do something with it, Robespierre thought. It might be useful. He remembered how shallow his breath was after a few minutes kissing. And... his body... he furtively looked at Saint-Just: on his slim waist, his obviously strong arms (he experienced it earlier when he caught him), quite wide shoulders. His gaze went down and then up to where it met Antoine's raised eyebrow.

Robespierre tried to keep an innocent expression that said: "I wasn't doing anything". He was burning inside. Saint-Just looked aside with a knowing smile which made Maximilien wanting to cover his face and never open his eyes if he was not alone.  
A smile never left Antoine's lips all the way to the store.  
They were standing in front of rows of coffee for the last three minutes - Saint-Just really put himself to the task of choosing a perfect one. Robespierre had just opened his mouth to say that he wasn't picky but his friend finally took something and showed him.  
"This one?"  
"This one is fine," said Maximilien, reading the label. It wasn't too pricey but also good. For a common supermarket assortment.

He caught Antoine's eyes looking somewhere with a strange alert expression on his face.  
"Do you need something else?" Robespierre asked.  
Saint-Just's gazed him, very intently.  
"Do you think we need something else?"  
A couple of silent seconds past when Robespierre's thought moved from bread and other groceries towards realizing what the question was about.  
His cheeks turned red in an instant.  
"No, we don't," he tried to give Antoine a glance of disapproval but it didn't look very impressive, possibly because he was so obviously blushing.  
Saint-Just smiled, not at all ashamed.  
The apartment was nice - a little studio, simple design. Light flower silver patterns on the walls, blond furniture. Some chaos: cloth on the floor near the bed, lots of papers on the table, books on the floor.

"Sorry," said Antoine without meaning it. "I didn't think you would pay me a visit so soon." He threw off his shoes and his bag, not being particularly accurate. Maximilien thought he must be lucky to see this place even so tidy.

Saint-Just turned on the kettle and then checked the amount of water in it. Turned out it was fine.

Robespierre carefully put his boots in the corner of the rug, placed his own bag near Antoine's, paused, then came towards the bookshelf as he was. Saint-Just had a pretty impressive collection even though Maximilien didn't approve some of his choices. Rousseau, de Maupassant, Proudhon, Bakounine, Goldman, Verlaine and Rimbaud... Most books were full of sticky notes and looked like every sentence of them had been fought with.

He had a copy of Les Miserables. Robespierre smiled and stroke the book's spine with his finger as if he was an old friend.  
"How many times have you read this?"  
Robespierre made a short laugh. "Lost count. How many times have you seen the musical?"  
Antoine sighed and smiled. "Okay, you've got me." He quietly came from behind and hugged Maximilien around his waist. "But now I've got you too," Saint-Just whispered in Robespierre's ear and he felt his breath taken away. Antoine was so close, he could feel the warm pressure of his chest to his back.

Maximilien wasn't ready for this sudden closeness. He heard the kettle getting off and pulled out of Antoine's arms.  
"You promised me coffee."  
"Sure."  
Saint-Just somehow had a more anxious look now when they were alone in his flat like he didn't know how to act.  
The coffee wasn't too bad. Antoine gave him a mug picturing greek myths characters presented in a presumably funny - silly cartoon style.  
"Do you like decadent poetry?" asked Robespierre, trying to start a conversation.  
"Oh, you noticed Verlaine. I do, actually, but mostly I bought them because I wanted to understand their relationships through their poetry."  
"Relationships?" he didn't quite understand what Antoine was talking about.  
"Verlaine and Rimbaud. You've never heard of them?"

Maximilien shook his head.

"Well, they were both poets and had complicated extrinsic personalities so their relationships - and they had them, not in some vague way, they were excluded from society because of their explicit and somewhat offensive behaviour - could not have been easy."  
Antoine sipped his tea, Robespierre was listening to every word. "They had fights. They were often drunk." He smiled at Maximilien's disapproval expression. "One day Verlaine, drunk and angry, shot Rimbaud's wrist."  
Clear amusement appeared on Robespierre's face. "After that Verlaine, being shocked of what he had done, insisted that Rimbaud should kill him for that. Rimbaud refused, and they went to a hospital but started arguing right on the streets, Verlaine pulled out his gun again and Rimbaud had to ask for help the closest police officer. Rimbaud had been sent to the hospital and Verlaine - to prison for two years."  
They stayed silent for a minute each sipping his own drink. Robespierre was thinking about the story Saint-Just told him - it was disturbing in a way surrealistic films are.  
He looked at Antoine's face - clever blue eyes, firm hellenic lips, a sharp chin line... And Maximilien sat with him, alone, in the quietness of his studio. To kiss, to hold, to talk.  
"Are you an anarch-" he wanted to ask but was interrupted by those lips he admired a second ago.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm extremely sorry for deleting this previously, guys. I had my reasons and they looked pretty damn good at that time.  
> You can come and yell at me, @alien8muse on Tumblr, but please if you do so - do it gently.)


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